Behind Blue Eyes
by Jasmine James
Summary: Dallas Winston had spent three years on the wild side of New York. That was all the gang knew... but there was more. And, surprisingly, Dallas was the cutest 2 year old you'll ever see.
1. Chapter 1

**New Story! Whooohooo! Okay!**

**Disclaimer: S.E Hinton owns. NOT ME!**

**Now that THAT horrid thing is over it's time for me to beg.**

**PLEASE. IF YOU SAID, "AW!" AT LEAST ONCE WHILE READING THIS... REVIEW.**

**And if you didn't... still review! ;)**

**-Jasmine**

Dallas Winston tried his best to make his drunken hand slide the key into the lock. He quickly looked around him to check and make sure no one had seen him come all the way over to the middle-class side of town. He would never live it down if any of his buddies knew.

Maybe that was why he was so good at hiding it.

Dallas got into his apartment and almost tripped. His drunken eyes failed to notice the letter that had been slipped into the room. The hood rolled his eyes. He could always count on _them_ to ruin his 17th birthday. Dallas looked around again, though he knew there as no point in; no on would be able to see him pick up the small pink envelope.

Dallas bent down cautiously. Only two people knew he lived in this apartment. Even then, he only came there as last resort. Knowing that it was being payed for by _them._.. Well, it was a large turn off. Though, it was better than sleeping in the streets. And still, he only heard from them once a year and that was on this fine November night. Yes, November 9th. How odd was it that they still insisted on sending him birthday cards...

The elegant writing on the cover made him want to just... leave. It might be easier to just sleep on the street that night. He could fight off any wanna-be hood, and it wasn't as if the police scared him... So why was he leaving a perfectly good house? Somewhere deep, deep, inside him he heard the answer.

The letter scared him.

Dallas shook his head, trying to clear his mind. (Though with his drunkenness, it only made it worse.) He was Dallas Winston! Nobody and no _thing_ ever scared him. With a spurt of energy caused by fury backing him, Dallas ripped open the envelope. He watched with narrowed eyes as the thick pink paper floated to the ground. The smell hit him first. Oh, yes, he remembered her perfume. To think... it used to be a comforting scent.

Dallas looked at the address and rubbed his temple.

_Robert Dallas Winston Jr._

_4G 131 Willow Street_

_Tulsa, Oklahoma 74101_

She was always the only to write everything. Sure, he always managed to sign his name at the bottom of the letter, but he was probably forced. He was ashamed of Dallas. When he was leaving New York... all those tears... It was all just a show. But for who? Who had come to show him off? No one. No one knew he was leaving.

No one cared.

Dallas turned over the pale pink letter in his hands. It was dotted with small pink flowers. On the cover it read:

_From the home of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dallas Winston Sr._

Once again the perfume overpowered all other senses.

"What did she do?" Dallas mumbled, "Pour the whole fucking bottle in here?" He rolled his eyes and opened the letter. How bad could it truly be?

Pretty bad.

Maybe it was the beer, but the moment he read the first line he was ready to vomit.

_ Our beloved son,_

_ Happy 17th birthday, son. We miss you. I hope you are doing well. We haven't heard anything from you. I do hope you are still living here. We went through all the trouble of buying you this place to stay for a reason. We want you to be safe, Robert._

_ Hone, we miss you so much. We love you, we really do. Please come home, Robert. I miss you. Your father misses you._

_ Do you remember the day you told me you were going to be, "Just like Daddy"? I do. You got dressed up in his shirt and tie and wandered around the house. I still have a picture of you like that. I treasure it. It still hangs on our refrigerator._

_ You don't have to stay here, Honey. Maybe just a weekend. Come up this weekend, please. While you turn 17 your father turns 53. His heart still isn't doing too well. The doctors aren't sure if he'll make it another year. Wouldn't you like to see your father again? It might be the last time. It would make him so happy. Every year he wishes for you to come home._

_ We all do._

_ Come home, Robert, please. For your father._

_ One last birthday present?_

_ -Your loving parents._

_Dorinee Marie Winston_

_and_

_Robert Dallas Winston Sr._

Dallas threw the letter down on the counter with unnecessary force.

"What a load of shit." The blonde hood complained. To him, the letter was nothing but a lie. They didn't want him. They had pushed him away enough to make that clear. Well... the letter was pointless. All of the letters have been. Never before had he come or written back to any of them. No matter how much she "begged" him to. His father is dying? Good for him.

This doesn't change anything.

He wasn't going.

As always.

Dallas opened a cabinet; it was full of glass and fine china that had never been used. He picked up a glass and filled it with water. He was having a little trouble turning the sink off, though. He fumbled with the dial but that seemed to only be making the water spew from the stainless steel spout faster. He watched in confusion as the water bubbled over the top of the cup. Now, because Dallas was so much smarter than the average drunk, he knew just what to do.

Dallas pulled out his switch-blade and slurred swears at the sink.

Poor sink.

The after a stressful half hour that was full of 200 f-words, 4 thrown knives, and an innocent refrigerator being punched; the sink was off and Dallas was holding his glass of water.

Dallas looked at the clean glass. This bothered him, it was too clean. He slammed the glass down on the counter and watched the water slosh over and splash onto the granite. Dallas gave another big sigh and ran yet another hand threw his messy, blonde, hair. He felt his bangs stick straight up when he pulled his hand out. Now, that didn't make any sense. Maybe it would if he greased his hair like Ponyboy or Steve but... Dallas didn't grease his hair. He thought that hair oil was disgusting! (And if you smelt it, you would too.) So why was his hair sticking up..? He looked down at his wet hand and saw a strand of his own white blonde hair stuck to it.

Dallas groaned and went to go find a mirror to fix his hair. He looked at his messed up bangs and tried his best to smooth it down. As he watched his hand with careful eyes...  
It was shaking.

Dallas swore under his breath. So that was it? Dallas Winston, a JD and hood with a record a mile long and growing, was going to turn soft and scared because of a letter? From his parents?

Dallas locked eyes with his reflection in the mirror. He studies himself. He was a tough, scary hoodlum that had been on his own for about six years now.

He got drunk.

He stole.

He lied.

He cheated.

He even jumped little kids.

He was a child that no parent would _ever_ want. So... who where his trying to fool? He looked into the mirror and cursed his looks. Why wouldn't he have had brown hair, like the Curtis family. Neither of his parents had brown hair.

He studied his eyes. Why couldn't he have been born with boring brown eyes, like Steve? Absolutely _no one_ in his family had brown eyes. Dallas watched in horror as his reflection... was no longer him.

In began to age but other than that, it was the same. Though Dallas knew that he wasn't looking at himself. HE was looking at...

His father.

From a young age the resemblance between him and his fathered had been uncanny. Dallas looked at his happy eyes and almost vomited again. His quickly narrowed his eyes in attempt to make them his own but he could still see the monster. In a fit of pure rage, Dallas brought his fist up and smashes the mirror apart.

Dallas looked down at his hand in wonder as the blood spewed from the cut, slowly tickling down his arm. Dallas walked over to the sink and watched the water turn red.

What was he doing? His old life was a thing from the past. He was a fool then. He was only their puppet. Dallas looked over to the crystal glass of water and realized the horrible truth.

He used to be exactly what he hates now.

He used to be...

A Soc.


	2. Chapter 2

**Same rules everybody! You say, "Aw" reviewing is mandatory! **

**I love you all! Thanks for the reviews!**

**-Jasmine**

_Little Robby Winston._

_Two years of age._

"Robby!" Dorinee called out as she walked around the penthouse in search of her two year old son.

"Robby, Honey!" Dorinee called out again.

"Mommy!" She heard the little toddler call back. Dorinee gave a relived sigh. She loved where she and Robert lived, she really did. It had an amazing view of all of New York City. They never had trouble sleeping; the walls were extra thick, totally sound proof. When they first bought it, they could not be more thrilled. The thing that made Dorinee happiest? The space. The place was huge! The entire top floor of the building was all theirs. At the time she could not have been more excited to have a child. How much fun would they have? All this space to run around and play... It wouldn't matter that they didn't have a backyard, they wouldn't need one. They would be the happiest child on Earth.

Well, now she did have a kid and she had been right. It was clear that little Robby was the happiest child on Earth. Robby was always running around the house and playing hide and go seek with his mother. The only problem was...

Little Robby never let Mommy know just when he was playing hide and go seek.

You know what made it worse?

Robby was very good at hide and go seek.

"Robby!" Dorinee called out, "Where are you?" There was boyish laughter to her left and Dorinee hurried in that direction.

"Mommy!" Robby yelled with a fit of giggles following close behind, "Mommy, you have to find me!" He told her, stretching out the "i" in find much longer than it need to be. (More like, "Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind me!") Dorinee sighed once more and continued to follow her son's voice.

"Robby, Darling!" Dorinee called, "Give Mommy a hint to where you are!" There was more laughter and the green eyed mother ran toward her son's voice.

"Mommy!" Robby complained, "Do you really need a hint?" Dorinee laughed at herself and her son.

"Yes, Honey! You're just so good at hind and go seek, I need a hint just to stand a chance!" There was more laughter. Dorinee hurried to find the source.

"Fine, Mommy!" Robby gave in, "I'm in a place where Daddy gets his clothes!" Dorinee smiled. She knew exactly where he was:

The clothing wing.

…

"Gotcha!" Dorinee yelled out as she grabbed little Robby around the stomach and lifted him into the air. He squirmed around has she kissed his forehead.

"Moooommyyyy!" Robby complained, "You're gonna mess up my hair! Daddy did it up special!" This statement got Dorinee's attention.

"Did he, now?" She asked and pulled away to look at his hair. It was carefully combed and parted; it looked just like Robert's hair always did.

"Oh, Robby you look wonderful!" Dorinee complimented. Robby looked down at his feet and blushed. It was then that Dorinee really noticed what Robby was wearing.

The light blue shirt that she had bought Robert for his 30th birthday was now on Robby. It fell long past his feet. The sleeves flopped over the ends of his arms so his hands were buried in the soft fabric. Around his neck was a blood red tie that was lose and dragging on the ground. In his hand, Robby help a plastic briefcase. Dorinee almost started to cry. He looked so cute! The red head put a hand over her mouth and pulled Robby in for a smile. When she pulled away the two year old looked up at her with large, innocent, light blue eyes.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Robby asked her, "Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Dorinee just smiled and wiped her eyes.

"It's nothing, Robby." She told him. Robby gave her a big smiled and wrapped his arms around her neck.  
"Can we get some lunch?" He asked. Dorinee laughed but said yes all the same.

"But first!" She told him, "I have to get a picture of you like this. It might just be our Christmas card this year." The happy mother pulled out a large camera and Dallas struck a pose. He threw his arms straight up in the air, closed his eyes tight, and stuck his tongue out. Dorinee chuckled and took the picture.  
"Adorable." She told him, and gave him another kiss on the cheek before getting him some lunch.

…

Dallas looked in the envelope and saw that there was a number a pieces of paper held together with a paperclip. He pulled it out and looked at the cover. Then he saw it.

There he was, two years old, and wearing his father's clothing.

Dallas threw the picture on the counter, face down. He couldn't look at that. He could be reminded on how... whipped he used to be. What kind of family he had been a part of. There was one thing for sure, he wasn't a part of it now.

What would his parents say?

Why would he care?


End file.
